


Sing Me a Memory~

by CookieCatSU



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Angst, Based on an offhand comment from Benrey, Black Mesa Sweet Voice, Gordon and Benrey really were friends, Grade A Schemes, Just kidding this is Benrey, M/M, Pre-Frenrey mostly, Some Backstory sprinkled in, Some Memory Loss, Tommy and Benrey friendship, Tommy translates, benrey is an alien, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: They used to be friends. Gordon's forgotten, somehow. Benrey has not.Thankfully, there's nothing a little bit of Sweet Voice™ and Idiocy can't fix.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 8
Kudos: 162





	Sing Me a Memory~

Gordon pauses. The old storage building is dark, faintly musty with mold, and damp, in that way only caves and prisons ever were. He hears something, clacking against the concrete. It sounds like scribbling nails, or claws, and holy jesus… tonight is the night he dies.

He digs his hand through his hoodie pocket, snatches out his flashlight, and turns it on. The led light streams out in a white cone, illuminating a circle of concrete wall. He quickly surveys the space around him, and, nothing, there's nothing, but old ass boxes dripping damp with rain water from the busted up roof.

Gordon groans, running his hand down his face.

"Fuck. Ugh, dad, why the hell did you have to leave me here?"

He stumbles over to the far left corner of the warehouse, where he knows his dad keeps the left over twinkies. He reaches head first into the boxes. The box on the top of the pile flexes with his weight, and he can feel that faint, wet coolness soaking into his sweatshirt and his shirt, until even his skin is wet. He gets his hands on a few twinkies, even a couple snowballs, the plastic packaging slippery in his palms with beads of liquid. He stands, bounty quickly stowed away in his pocket, and that's when he hears it.

Several boxes crash to the floor. Again, there's that sound of nails… claws, definitely claws, digging into the concrete, but it's so much closer this time. Only a few feet away. And he can see something moving, in the corner of his eye, long and sleek and black, darker than the shadows clinging to the walls.

He flashes his light in that direction, and he's convinced he saw the end of a tail, curling, whipping out of sight.

"Nobody told me there were fucking raccoons in here" Gordon snaps (because what else could it be?), and his hand _isn't_ quaking, as he turns 30 degrees more to his left, trying to follow that snaking movement.

His flashlight finally lands on it. "Aha!" He squints, gaping when he realizes he's looking at another kid. And he is, lanky and gaunt in the face, utterly swamped by the gigantic, gray sweatshirt he's wearing, but still definitely a kid. He looks like he's probably 12, too, like Gordon.

In fact, he looks uncomfortably similar to Gordon. They're the same height, and he's wearing the same clothes Gordon is.

"Woah, man, what are you doing in here?"

The kid squints, hand reaching up to cover his face. His back is hunched. "light" is all he says, at first. His voice is raspy, strained with disuse. He almost sounds like he's trying the word on, taking it out on a spin, tasting it in his mouth to see if he likes it, kinda half stumbling on it in a way that makes Gordon raise his eyebrow. "get that light outta my face"

Gordon points the flashlight more toward the floor, "Yeah, sorry"

His eyebrows are still knit together. Something feels off about all of this.

The kid shakes his head, "bro's so rude. just flashing lights all willy nilly"

Off or not, now that it's clear there isn't any danger afoot, Gordon is going to enjoy his pilfered snacks.

"You're the one sneaking around in the dark" Gordon retorts, as he unwraps one of the twinkies stowed in his pocket, "What's with that?"

"need dark cover. i uh, gotta mission, bro, so i gots to be able to sneak" He eyes the processed treat in Gordon's hands. His eyes are big and wide.

"can I get one of them?" He asks. His voice still warbles, but it's bright with excitement, and curiosity.

Gordon pauses in demolishing his twinkie. The other kid's staring at him like he's a saint or an angel or something. Gordon nods, grabs an individually wrapped twinkie, and tosses it to him.

The kid snatches it out of the air. He pops the plastic open, and then he goes to town. He scarfs it down like he hasn't eaten in weeks, just utterly ravenous. Crumbs are flying, and filling is falling left and right, and by the time he's done with it, his face is covered with white cream and crumbs are clinging all around his mouth.

He drops the empty plastic bag on the ground without a glance. Gordon just stares at him.

Gordon blinks. "Okay… Now that we've uh, broke bread together, or whatever bullshit you call it, I think it's only fair you tell me your name"

Because he is tired of thinking of him as, 'that other kid' and, 'The twinkie killer,' hardly seemed any better. Too much of a mouthful.

The kid pauses, seemingly thinking on it. He taps his chin, kicks the twinkie rapper still sitting at his feet, and then nods. "mmmmm…. checks out. i'mma benrey"

Benrey. That sounded… genuinely fake, honestly. It fits though, with the janky, half bent stance, and the hand jammed into baggy jeans, elbow jutting outward, knitted cap pulled almost over his brow. He looks like a Benrey, somehow, and he sounds like a Benrey

"Okay, Benrey. I'm Gordon"

* * *

It's September, one of those rare, rainy days, when the dry airy heat is abandoned for damp, chilly breezes. Benrey and Gordon splash through puddles together. Their rainboots are slick with water, and so crusty with mud the colors beneath are indecipherable.

"It's red" Gordon says with a huff, when Benrey decides to question him, "red's the best color, obviously" He adds, because it's true. Everything Gordon owns is red.

Benrey purposely splashes into a puddle right next to Gordon, so he ends up wet from waist to toe. Gordon laughs loudly, throws his arms out as if to shield himself, and then trips Benrey just as the other boy's landing, in retaliation. Benrey falls face first in a muddy puddle.

He quickly rolls over, lands on his back, and grabs Gordon's ankle. Gordon yelps, and before he knows it they're both on the ground, soaked with rain water and laughing. 

"Dude, you're ridiculous" Gordon exclaims, and he should sound annoyed, but he can't quite manage the right inflection. His amusement won't stop leaking through, "Now we're both wet"

"no you" Benrey retorts, rather intelligently.

Gordon laughs again. He shifts, drops his head into a puddle, but makes no attempt to get up. He sighs, a content sound, and taps Benrey on the shoulder. Benrey makes a questioning noise and squirms a little beside Gordon.

"Hey, Benrey?"

"yeah? gordo?"

"It's always going to be like this, right?" Gordon asks, turning to him with a smile. It's still thundering above him, and the flash of lightening makes his dark eyes almost look like they're glowing. Benrey stares without an ounce of embarrassment, "Us against the world?"

"yeah. of course" Benrey says, light and simple, because it is. It's simple. They're friends, and what could possibly change that?

* * *

Benrey hates Black Mesa. He hates the Anomalous materials department. He hates the last month. 

And now he hates the breakroom, because it's the place Tommy's decided to corner him in. Benrey adds another soda can on his great, leaning tower, glaring at Tommy from above his masterpiece. 

"Just tell him," Tommy says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. His smile is encouraging, but not enough to stop the churning in Benrey's gut. 

Nothing would be quite enough to bridge that great divide, between reality and perception and what should be (Gordon should remember, and he doesn't, and Benrey can't change that with a couple well placed verses). No one can change that, and that reality, that perception, is part of why this is all so _frustrating._ Benrey hates being confused, and he can't stand that aching sense of _powerlessness_ that's been dogging his every step, lately.

"really, tommo? you think I haven't tried that?" Benrey snaps out. 

He gnashes his teeth, and he can feel the bile, rising up in his esophagus, burning his throat. He covers his mouth to stop the onslaught, and a molten red orb pops against his clasped hands. Sticky cinnamon red, hot to the touch, drips between the gaps in his fingers. His shoulders hunker inward, and he is suddenly overcome with shame, shame just as strong as his anger.

Tommy looks aghast, for a moment. So guilty. He opens his mouth, and a few orbs of his own float out, soft raspberry blue, gradiating to lime green. Benrey identifies it as what is is: a comforting hand extended outward.

They pop against his shoulder, and Benrey feels the calming affect before he even has the time to identify the feeling. His shoulders relax, his body unfurls, and he takes in a deep breath, thick with the familiar smell of peppermint and raspberry and friendship.

He gazes up at Tommy, who smiles warmly.

"Blue to Lime Green means, please be more serene!"

Benrey nods, and tries a weak smile of his own. He coughs into his elbow, and the splotch is small, and only faintly red-magenta.

"sorry. shouldn't a got so mad"

"I-It's okay! I know this is important to you"

And it is. It's so important, and Benrey can't stop thinking about it, because something must be wrong. Benrey doesn't think himself one easily forgotten. And it's especially frustrating because if that hard headed little shit would just…

"he just won't listen, tommy! i've tried telling him, but he never hears shit"

Tommy considers that. He grabs a soda off the top of the tower, hardly blinking at the slight wobble that causes, and pops the seal. He takes a sip, long and drawn out, and then he swallows loudly, raises a single finger high above him, and laughs triumphantly.

Benrey is pretty hopeful, because Tommy's got his 'I have an idea' face on, and Tommy comes up with his best ideas while he's drinking soda. This might have potential yet.

"What if you didn't have to talk?" Tommy asks, mouth quirking upward with the pure genius of his plan.

Benrey stares blankly. "the fuck, bro? get to splaining"

Tommy leans forward, and whispers into Benrey's ear. A smile stretches across the guard's face, and he nods eagerly.

"hell yeah! your a genius, tommy. this is it, this is the plan of the year, best idea 2020"

They high five.

* * *

Horror flashes across Gordon's face, and he scrambles away from him. His fist, huge and warped and something else, slams against the pavement (rocks, gravel, silty dirt), which cracks and splinters. Hundreds of eyes pop from beneath his skin, and finally he can see, and his hidden appendages burst free from his form, and he feels so free (scared, scared, Benrey's scared).

Gordon stares, at the gigantic, six legged beast in front of him. It's got teeth like a sabertooth, striped fur that seemed to defy sense, and… there's still that ratty, tattered beanie, ripped, stretched yarn hanging from the eldritch monstrosity's neck. From… from Benrey's neck…

Gordon's eyes widen, as he gazes back, into dark yellow eyes.

"Oh my god! Dude… dude, that's still you, isn't it?"

A jerking nod. Six eyes flutter closed, one on the forehead, two on the shoulder, and an awful, scraping growl rumbles out of the creature- Benrey's, gaping maw. Gordon can see his teeth, can see the rows upon rows of curled sickle fangs, and finds himself scrambling back again despite himself (the jaws dislocate at the junction, peel back, yank open like a split melon, and if not for the gentle rustling of it's fur in the wind, Gordon would have thought it was straight out of a nightmare. Except, this was too real).

The growl shifts, more into a pitiful whimper. It still sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Low and keening and... frightened. Gordon realizes that Benrey sounds frightened.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay, dude. You're… uh, you're not alone"

 _Okay, okay, he probably won't bite my hand off, if I get a little closer,_ Gordon reassures himself. He inches forward on his knees, slow and hesitant. Benrey, having flopped onto the ground, hardly shifts, as Gordon gingerly sets himself beside him. His fur is soft, comforting, sort of, though he feels distinctly cold, as his shoulder muscles ripple against Gordon's side, and it all has this alien sort of quality. He slings his arm over his ginormous head, his hand jutting upward at nearly an 80° angle.

"So uh, we've got to talk about this at some point, right?" Gordon points at Benrey's, everything, and laughs.

* * *

Gordon doesn't understand what's wrong with Benrey. The guard starts following him, for no other reason than because he likes to annoy him, as far as Gordon can tell, and then refuses to leave him alone. He becomes a tick at his side, latching on with the audacity of a pitbull and sucking out his life force, like the pest he is.

By the time they've made it through half of the first day, Gordon is sick to death of him.

Gordon is exhausted, bent at the waist, puffing and heaving. They'd just had a good run for their lives, barely escaping the military goons on their heels. The taste of bile is thick in his throat, and his left side is covered in blood. He wants nothing more than to fall out on the floor and maybe wake up sometime next week. Next year might be better.

"That was an excellent way to get the blood pumping!" Coomer exclaims, from somewhere further in the storage room they'd dragged themselves to to lick their wounds, as cheerful as ever. Bubby mutters some acerbic comment back, but Gordon is too light headed to catch it.

"Well team, what next? Will we go back and finish off those ruffians? Or track down some extraterrestrials to tussle with?"

Gordon wipes at his mouth, gulping down several, lengthy breathes. He feels like garbage, and the thought of taking even three more steps throws him into a brief tizzy. "Nah, Dr. Coomer. I think- I really think it's time to rest. We should stop here"

Tommy nods quickly in agreement, "I-I'm tired"

"Okay, so uh-" Gordon pauses, trailing off, because apparently Benrey has taken that very moment to step right beside Gordon. Gordon turns to ask him what he wants, and finds a faceful of orbs, bright as candy hearts.

"What the hell man?" Gordon snaps, brushing a couple yellows orbs out of his face.

"nuthin'. just thought i'd contribute, on all the plan discussing"

"What does that have to do with spitting in my face, man?"

Benrey shrugs. 

Gordon looks up, briefly, and can't decide if Tommy is smiling at him, or is just happy to be sitting down now.

"Tangerine to Yellow means, let's keep it mellow!" Tommy says.

* * *

He wants Gordon to loosen up. They used to have so much fun together, but then Gordos the Idiot hit his head or something, and suddenly got real uptight. Benrey's hoping if he jokes around enough, like they used to, it'll spark a memory, and Gordon will join in and stop being such a square.

So Benrey does what he does best. He acts a fool, and gets on Gordon's last nerve.

Benrey blows an orb of sweet voice against the back of Gordon's head. It pops and drips down his neck. Gordon scowls and tries to ignore him.

"Left or right?" Bubby says. The path before them splits down the middle, branching off in opposite directions. There's an eerie green glow nearing to the end of the hallway to the left.

"Not left, guys. Obviously" Gordon says, definitely ignoring Benrey.

Benrey scowls. That's no good. Bleh. He can't be ignored. He shifts a little, and puffs out another orb. This time it hits Gordon straight inside the ear. Bullseye. Benrey congratulates himself on his awesome aiming skills.

"Stop" Gordon mutters shortly, but he doesn't give Benrey the satisfaction of so much as a glance.

"I think right is always a good choice- Hello, Gor-" Dr. Coomer snaps his mouth shut and smiles.

Benrey huffs loudly, very loudly, cutting over Coomer before he can speak again. Gordon still ignores him. Instead of acknowledging him, he looks over at Tommy and Bubby, the latter of which shrugs and says rather unhelpfully,

"Gotta go left. It looks intriguing" and he breaks out with a shit eating grin.

Benrey, officially at his wit's end with being ignored, steps directly in front of Gordon, and blows an orb straight into his face. It bursts against his nose and splatters in his eye.

Gordon gives a look of pure disgust, and wipes the sticky stuff out of his face.

Okay, Gordon looks ready to kill Benrey. Like, really kill him. Pull his guts out and all. Benrey's survival instinct kicks in- the guard's mouth falls open, and then he turns tail, and he starts running. Gordon, several seconds behind, finds his jaw whirring shut and his eyebrows knitting together.

"I'm gonna kill you, Benrey!" Gordon shouts, finally, once he's processed the pure insult of what'd transpired. He scrambles up to his feet and starts running after Benrey.

It'd all be pretty funny, Benrey thinks, if Gordon didn't look so homicidal. It's almost like old times. Almost.

"Mr. Freeman, please don't" Tommy calls after them urgently, "Silver to Caramel Bun means, it's all in good fun!"

* * *

The skeleton watches him. The skeleton watches him, at every corner, standing and staring back at him from every shadow. It's driving Gordon crazy. It is crazy.

No one else sees it. It- _it,_ isn't the right term because he knows it's Benrey. He knows it's Benrey because it always shows up when Benrey disappears, and manages to magically vanish whenever he reappears. It has his same, fucked up sense of humor too, following him around, making him think he's insane in the membrane. Asshole.

It also has a similar fascination with the Black Mesa Sweet Voice.

It sits on a crate, spewing the glowing stuff just a few feet from where Gordon sits.

Tommy smiles, staring fondly at the bright colors, and says, "From Black to Cloudy Blue means, I miss you!"

Gordon stares at Tommy, and says nothing. He doesn't look at the skeleton again.

* * *

It's dark and lonely, and Benrey wants nothing more than to go home. He's soaked to the bone, boots filled with swampy water, slacks so drenched he'll never be able to wring them out. He's surrounded by silence and Xen, and endless, stretching time.

Then he's in an unfamiliar living room, standing in an equally unfamiliar house, staring at a very, very familiar face.

"Benrey?"

"gordon" It's the first time, in a long time, that he's called Gordon by his name. Not G or Gor Gor or Feetman or something stupid. Just Gordon.

Not passport stealer or intruder or jackass. It's the closest he's gotten, to friend.

They used to be friends. Benrey glances at his hand, the new plastic one that was real but not real, and with a serial code that said it all. He glances at his own hands, pale from lack of sunlight, and newly tinted blue, and finds that, despite all that's happened, he still wants them to be friends. He misses being friends.

He sings. Three lone orbs flow out, almost mournful, melodious notes. They have the stench of loneliness and are sweet with the smell of cake. Twinkies, maybe. 

"violet to mahogany means i'm sorry" Benrey says softly.

Gordon's eyes widen. There's a shift, small and almost imperceptible, but it's all Benrey can see. For a moment, he finds himself brimming with hope.

"I'm sorry, too" Gordon says, and Benrey knows.

Benrey knows.

It's going to be okay.

  
  



End file.
